


Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.

by Anonymous



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication Failure, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Reconciliation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Booker's journey during an exile that involves way more communication with the party he was exiled from than an exile should.
Comments: 46
Kudos: 290
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Andy

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic is extremely sympathetic to Booker. So if that's not your thing, you should probably back button. Nobody is villainized in this, including Quynh as it isn't epilogue or comic compliant, but it does address ways that I feel the others failed him. While nobody is to blame for anyone else's choices, that doesn't mean they didn't add to their burden either consciously or unconsciously. Or that they didn't miss or ignore signs that the other person needed help. That's not the same as being responsible, but if the parties involved intend to move forward together, then both sides need to recognize where things went wrong so the situation doesn't just repeat in the future.

He should be surprised to find Andy in his apartment, but he’s not. Her judgmental look at the state of the said apartment would be more convincing if she wasn’t helping herself to his liquor.

“Boss, I know you’re not always the best at time lengths, but you’re 99 years too early.”

“You’re the one whose exiled, not me.” Andy responded with a shrug. And, really, he should have known better than to expect her to play by the rules.

It was stupid to start to clean the apartment when she’d already seen the disastrous state it was in, but he began to do it anyway. “Everything alright?” He asked after a few minutes.

“They’re annoyingly overprotective.”

Booker shot her a smirk. “Good.”

“Ugh.” She dropped her head onto the back of the couch. “Screw you, Book. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

The joke cut a little close, and he struggled for what to say for a moment. “You’re welcome to my liquor.” Was what he finally decided was the safest bet.

Andy’s eyes were too knowing when she raised her head back up. “I miss your ugly mug. Plus, Joe doesn’t put whiskey in my coffee.”

“That’s positively criminal.”

“Exactly.” The silence stretched for a moment. “What have you been doing lately?” At his shrug, she sighed. “You can’t just drown yourself in booze for the next hundred years.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I could.” He kept his tone flippant.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“I meant what I said at the lab, we have been doing a shit job of living, Booker.”

“How’s that going on your end?” It was her turn to fall silent, and he nodded - he hadn’t expected anything different. “The sentence was 100 years of exile. Not a word about how I spend it.”

“Slumming it wasn’t really the thought.”

“Well, too late to change the deal.”

“C’mon, Book-”

“Why aren’t you angry?” He demanded. He could have taken screaming or yelling - but this calm; this ease at which she could speak to him - that he couldn’t understand. “When you told me to get up in the lab - that was the only time you’ve been angry. Why?”

Andy’s eyes were fathomless as she met his, for a brief moment the years between them stretched out. “You think I’ve lived this long and never betrayed someone?”

The confession stole the air from his lungs and the fire from his argument. “I’m sure it wasn’t like this.”

“I’m sure they felt differently about it.” She poured herself more to drink. “The guilt doesn’t go away, exactly. Time just distances it.”

“So, we’ll see where I am in 99 years.”

“You can’t just wallow. You could reach out to Copley, he could find you some jobs-”

“I don’t want them.” For a moment he was certain someone else in the room had spoken the words. They’d slipped out unbidden, but as Andy stared at him in shock, he turned the words over in his mind - considering them. “I don’t want them.” He repeated, firmer now. “I was never a soldier.”

Andy stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You were literally a soldier-”

“No, I was sentenced to be a soldier. I died for deserting; you showed up and said ‘join my army’, and then were somehow surprised when I said no and went home.” Giving up on his attempt to tidy up, for now, he poured himself a drink of his own. “And the whole time I was with my family, I wasn’t a soldier then, either. It wasn’t until I joined you that I forced myself to become one. And maybe that was the wrong choice.”

“I never forced you-”

“What would you have said? If I said I wanted to travel with you, but not fight for you?”

“I don’t know - you never asked.” Andy pointed out.

He nodded - that was true. He never had. “I never had your drive for the cause. Or Nicky and Joe’s faith in it. I did it because it was what we did. I did it because I didn’t want to be alone. But in the end, that’s not really good enough - is it? So, no. I don't want any jobs from Copley."

“You have to keep moving.”

“No offense, Andy, but maybe I don’t. Maybe I need to stop moving and let it all sink in. Maybe I need to wallow and grieve. Maybe I need time, not jobs.”

“It’s easy to get lost in that. To just let it go on and on. I don’t want you to get into a cycle you can’t break out of.”

“...Have some faith.”

“Smartass.” Draining her cup, she set it aside and stood. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. All of you.” It wasn’t that hard to be alone. Feeling alone with others was actually far worse than feeling alone when alone. So while there were times something would strike him, and he would miss them - fiercely - it wasn’t hard to be by himself. It was just hard to not be able to contact them when those moments came.

“You better.” She hesitated, and he moved forward to pull her into a hug. He didn’t want to let go - didn’t want to think about how each time he saw her, it might be the last. “They just need time, too.”

“99 years to go.”

She released him reluctantly, and he looked away as the door shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going against the general consensus here. But, I actually feel like part of Booker's problem is he hasn't allowed himself to stop and grieve his family properly. He just kept throwing himself at the next available task without actually processing the loss. And I think that was, in part, due to Andy. Of the three older immortals, the only one who truly understood the depth of his loss was Andy, and her solution - even for herself - is to just keep throwing yourself at the next task. But Andy actually spent an entire century searching for Quynh, an entire century on her grief. While Booker is still grieving (Which is 100% his right, btw. Nobody has to grieve on a timetable that's convenient for others), he clearly threw himself into missions well before a century was up. Nor do I think he stopped to consider what would actually be a cause that would make him, personally, want to continue moving forward after losing his family. What was something he truly could believe in.
> 
> Of all the character histories, Booker’s is the one that basically screams to me that he was not a soldier or warrior by choice, and definitely is not one at heart. I think if he had asked to not battle with them, Andy wouldn’t have been happy, despite claiming here she isn’t sure what she would have said, but that Joe and Nicky probably would have had his back. So it partly falls on him for not asking, but think of how Andy talked to Nile about what they were, and it probably didn’t seem to Booker that it was something he could ask and not be abandoned over.


	2. Nile

“Can you set me up a new account?”

“Copley find you out?”

“He’s so paranoid. I didn’t have a single selfie.”

“His paranoia keeps you undiscovered.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s 2 am here, you know.”

“You weren’t sleeping.” She replied with confidence.

He couldn’t deny it. He was in bed, but he hadn’t slept a wink. Getting up, he went to the desk in the corner where his laptop was set up. “Same site or is there some new fad I don't know about?”

“I emailed you the info. And I call bull on you not knowing the new apps.”

“Remember, when you unload it from your phone between uses, you also have to delete it from your store app history. That’ll help cover your tracks from Copley.”

“I did, but apparently he was scanning social media by location and date. Said my pics made it too easy to track our path.”

“Post out of order next time. Save up a few locations, and post them in a way that doesn’t fit your timeline. Maybe look up tours and post them in that order - make it seem like you’re just someone on vacation.”

“I need a vacation. Go someplace sunny for me and take pictures.”

“Oui, oui.”

“Did you read any of the new websites I sent you?”

“Anyone tell you how pushy you are?”

“Andy, daily. Did you read them?”

“Maybe.” If he’d saved a few of them, he’d never admit it. If there was stationary on the desk, and pens, and written letters to those passed, and even to those still present but far away - a recommendation that had stuck with him and he’d decided to try one night - that was his secret too. Maybe someday he’d share the letters. He had plenty of time still to decide.

“I tried pamphlets, but Andy threw them out.”

“You expected differently?”

“Nicky liked one and rescued it from the recycle bin, and pinned it to the fridge. Andy took it down and tossed it back in the bin. So far they’ve repeated the cycle 52 times.”

“I hope you didn’t make a losing bet on it.”

“Who says it’s a losing bet?”

“He’s gonna take all your money, mark my words.”

“Did he used to take all yours?”

“No, I always won.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ask-” He started, but stopped.

She probably couldn’t ask about him. Shouldn’t really be calling him, either. Shortly after Andy’s first visit, she’d started emailing him - apparently deciding if Andy broke the rules, she could, too. He had tried to tell her that Andy breaking the rules was Andy being Andy, and didn’t apply to her. Nile had shrugged that off, and kept emailing him. He wouldn’t have replied after that - but some of her questions and requests brought up memories of what it had been like to be the new immortal, and he couldn’t find it in him to refuse her. The one thing he made her promise after the phone calls started was to not meet him in person - at this point, he was starting to think the contact was so frequent it didn’t matter. However, he was trying to obey the rules of his exile. He honestly was. It wasn’t his fault Andy and Nile both had decided they didn’t have to.

“Ask Nicky in 95 years.” He opted for.

“Hm. Joe did that thing again today when I couldn’t understand what the fuck he was talking about. It wasn’t even a language barrier this time - the sentence made no sense.”

“800-year-old slang?”

“Then they look at me weird when I say “My bad,” which is totally unfair.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“If you were here, I could roll my eyes at you and we could commiserate together.”

“If I was there I’d probably use 200-year-old slang and you’d groan in defeat.”

“Maybe. Wish I’d get a chance to know. Before it’s old hat for me.”

“Nile-”

“A century is too long.”

“To them a century-”

“You’re not them, and neither am I. That’s half as old as you are right now. Doesn’t matter how old we’ll be someday.”

“Time is different for them.”

“You make a lot of excuses for them.”

“I love them. You do, too.”

“Well, duh. Doesn’t mean they can’t be wrong.”

“It’s a punishment, Nile. And honestly? I expected more. I thought they’d need more time after what I did.”

“But what about those of us who don’t need the time? Why do we get punished too?”

“You break the rules of my exile multiple times a week.”

“They didn’t lay rules.” Nile disagreed. “They said, oh you’re exiled for a hundred years. They didn’t say a word about long-distance contact.”

“It was implied.”

“It’s a loophole. Their fault for being nonspecific.”

They were probably going to have this disagreement a lot over the next century. He probably should get used to losing it. “Okay, I’ve emailed you the cover story for the account and your temporary log in, don’t forget to change it.”

“Andy is the one who never remembers to change her password. And Nicky never uses a lock screen pin. Copley has breakdowns over it.”

“I told him that was a lost cause. He's lucky he wasn't brought in ten years earlier when Joe used to always put Nicky as his wallpaper."

"How did you get him to stop?"

"He forgot to delete it once, and we had to go back for it. Then I had to fix it, delete the info, and break it again. All while in danger of being tracked by some very unsavory individuals."

"If this is a fib-"

"Oh, it's not. Andy made us all swear no camera phone pictures. Nicky pouted for a whole week. Art has never been his forte, so it was the first time he was able to have pictures of Joe. Andy made Joe promise Nicky a self portrait, but Nicky complained Joe never draws himself as handsome as he actually is."

"What did Joe say to that?"

"Nothing I'm translating for you."

"Why, was it obscene?"

"It was nauseatingly romantic."

Nile was smothering her face into something to cover her laughter. He wondered briefly where she was, what time it was where she was staying. He shut down the thought before it could spiral - before he was tempted to try and figure it out. "I needed that laugh."

"How are you sleeping?"

"Some nights better than others." Nile replied. He didn't need to ask her why. He'd been living with the dreams of Quynh's torment a long time. It wasn't every night, but never knowing was almost worse. “You’ll take me to your favorite libraries, right?”

“Absolutely.” He promised. He’d promised several times already. Nile had started to make plans for what they’d do together after his exile about a year before. It was both painful and touching.

“I’m going to keep up with modern music, and you’ll have to attend concerts with me because I said so.”

“We’ll see how you feel about modern music in 95 years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have 2 problems with the 100 years. One is just the length. Seriously, I get they're immortal and some time in the future that 100 years will seem like a blip on the radar to them. But Booker really isn’t old enough to feel that way. Half his current life is way too long. And with Andy's mortality, you're not just punishing Booker by saying he can't see Andy before she dies - you're punishing Andy too. Even if you think he deserves it, why does she?
> 
> Second is that I fail to see how this is supposed to do shit to prevent this type of situation from reoccurring. I guarantee you isolation for most people is going to do exactly jack for their rehabilitation. And while it may allow for anger to simmer down, I fail to see how it would rebuild trust or understanding. A shorter exile, some type of probation, or both makes more sense to me.
> 
> I chose Nile to remain in the most contact and provide him with websites with suggestions on dealing with grief, in part because she is the one he didn't betray. But also because Nile is the only one born in a time to whom dealing with mental health didn't mean ignoring it, torturing it out of them, or locking them up and throwing away the key.


	3. Joe & Nicky

"Contacting Nile is breaking your exile."

Given that Nicky and Joe were standing in his apartment, Booker was extremely tempted to say something flippant. He wasn't sure if they didn't know about Andy's seven previous visits or if they just knew better than to try to intervene with her choices. Probably a bit of both. "I didn't contact Nile. She contacted me."

Nicky nodded, like that was the answer he'd expected. "If I told you that you had to stop, would you?"

Booker considered it for a moment. "No. Not right now. Forty more years or so, maybe, but not now." He doubted Nile would stop willingly even then, but he could utilize his tech knowledge to limit her contact at that point. "If you want to talk to Andy about adding years to my exile, I'll accept whatever decision is reached on it." He moved to put away the groceries he'd bought. At least his apartment was in better shape than it had been during Andy's first visit.

"Why forty years?" Joe questioned.

"She'll be more settled then. Not as many firsts to go through."

"She could talk to us about it."

"She could." Booker agreed. "And I'm sure you'd be very understanding. Sympathetic even."

"But?" Nicky prompted.

"But your memories of those moments probably aren't the clearest, nor are they… I'm not sure you two could understand how she feels exactly."

"Because we've always had each other?" There was a challenge to Joe's tone, a hint of lingering anger.

Booker chose his words carefully. "In part, yes. And for Nile's sake, please think that through carefully rather than dismissing it just because it comes from me."

Finished with the groceries, he turned to face them, ignoring the mix of emotions being around them again brought. Regret and relief. Guilt and joy. They looked contemplative, which he was grateful for.

"Our experience was unique." Joe was the first to speak. "It's not the same to know others have gone through something before as to know another is experiencing each high and low right alongside you." He glanced at Nicky. “Feeling all the same turmoil and joys you are in that moment.”

"You've also been with Andy a long time. Sometimes, you just fall into a language, a memory, a rhythm… for someone new, it can be… a lot."

"For Nile? Or was it the same for you?" Nicky asked.

"She had questions, griefs, frustrations. I listened - it's what she was looking for. I won't refuse her that." Booker dodged the second question, ignoring the unhappy look he was sent for not answering. "But I have told her she is not allowed to see me in person. I suspect she'll rile against that once she learns you were here, though."

"She's headstrong. Fierce." Joe couldn't help but smile proudly.

"To say the least." Nicky grinned, but grew serious. "Are we failing her?"

"No, Nicky. She seems to be finding her place well."

"Did we fail you?"

He considered that. "Perhaps in some ways, but more because you didn't know how to help than anything. I wasn't really sure what I needed either back then."

"Do you now?"

"I think I'm getting closer." He admitted. The silence stretched between them. "She dreams of Quynh. You know that."

"...How often?" Joe asked.

"Once is too often!" He snapped, then immediately felt guilty about it. He poured himself a drink and downed it, not caring if he had an audience. "I know it's a powder keg. For all of you. She knows it too. If you want me to end contact, you need to talk to her about it. She's handled it well enough for these past ten years but it's not like it gets better."

"I'm not sure we can even begin to help her with that." Nicky admitted.

Booker shrugged, and poured himself another drink. "I used to wonder if it was possible. All this new technology. Once, in the safehouse near London, I began to put together plans. Maps, tide charts, the cost of submersible vehicles and a ship to carry them. But it was useless without…"

"Without us. Without everything we had learned back then. Without asking us to relive it again, knowing we could still fail." Joe provided.

"I lacked the drive, or perhaps the courage, to ask that of you. So I just let it go."

"You let the wrong things go."

"...perhaps I do."

"...we're not ready to forgive you yet." Nicky said the words slowly.

He nodded, having expected no less. "Look out for everyone."

"You should be fucking there doing that too." Joe snapped, as much pain and anger in the statement. He dragged his hand down his face, calming himself. "I know grief can drive a person to desperation, but how could you condemn us all so easily?"

"I was seeking to end my pain, Joe - not cause any. You weren't supposed to have been anywhere near that lab. That wasn't the original agreement. Ask Copley if you don't believe me."

"Were you?" Nicky asked him.

"Was I what?"

"Meant to be in the lab?"

Booker could only shrug, and Nicky cursed under his breath. Probably both the language and the curse had been dead for centuries. 

"Things spiraled out of control, and I can't say if it was desperation, madness, or if I just couldn't see a way out of the hole I had dug that kept me moving forward when I should have been backtracking instead. It wasn't until I shot Andy and instead of breaking my neck and calling me an asshole, she just…" He closed his eyes - that memory would haunt him forever, he knew it - and took a deep breath. "That's when it hit me how far things had gone wrong. How what was happening wasn't what I had wanted. How spectacularly I'd fucked up."

"I wish you'd have had that moment of clarity forty-eight hours sooner." Joe told him.

Booker couldn't stop the pained laugh at his words. "That makes two of us."

Nicky took Joe's hand, and gave him a look filled with his own mixed emotions. "90 years. You'll be there?"

"I'll be there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this section a lot, trying to balance it between Nicky and Joe's pain, and the truths they needed to face about what led to Booker's betrayal. It's a difficult situation because while Booker is the one who betrayed them, it's also true that he would never have reached that point if he'd received the help he needed in the first place. And his only resource was the three elder immortals, so the hard facts are they did fail him in that. But, it's not like they didn't give him that help because they didn't want to help. They just didn't understand how to. A vicious circle that reached critical mass with Copley's misguided assistance.
> 
> I do think the original plan didn't involve them ending up in the lab at all, based on Copley and Merrick's conversation. How much of what followed was Copley and how much was Booker is a debate I’m not going to get into. I do feel things spiraled out of control in a way neither expected. I don't think torture was ever supposed to be on the table. (It actually was completely unnecessary for Kozak to do half of what she did. She was just evil.)
> 
> I definitely wanted to show that Nile and Booker’s contact wasn’t just for Booker, but for Nile to have someone to turn to as well - someone with a greater understanding of her specific experience. Let’s face it, Andy, Joe, and Nicky have known each other for something like eight hundred years - for someone new coming in - Booker in his day and Nile in current - there will be times they’ll feel out of place. Not because they do anything on purpose - but just because of how long they’ve known and worked with each other. And Booker is also the only one who can understand what dreaming of Quynh is like.


	4. Copley

"Is everything okay?"

"Booker?”

“Joe hasn’t texted me, and France lost the match. And I didn’t get a postcard from Nicky this month.” It probably didn’t sound that important to Copley, but the absence was jarring to him. He probably shouldn’t have been so attached to the small signs of reconciliation - Nicky had told him during their last visit they weren’t ready to forgive him. But they had seemed to decide, after whatever conversation they’d had with Nile upon their return, that it wasn’t breaking his exile to send him texts and postcards.

‘Prisoners are allowed correspondence, you know.’ Nile had told him pointedly. He wondered if she’d used the same argument on Joe and Nicky.

“Please tell me he doesn’t mail them from their mission cities.”

“How would I know? I don’t know anything about their missions.”

“Because you definitely didn’t set up Nile with an account to post pictures from or anything. Again.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He lied. “Look, are they on an extended mission? That’s all I’m asking.”

"They said they were taking a break. That they didn't need my help to set up a safehouse or transportation."

Booker let himself relax. A break - that wasn't unexpected. And if they separated, they wouldn't have asked Copley about setting up places. Would probably just use personal properties. Nile's last email hadn't mentioned a break, though. She hadn't mentioned buying her first property either. Maybe she was just renting? It would be her first true break.

He was torn between apologizing to Copley for overreacting, and the feeling that something wasn't quite right. "I see. That makes… sense."

Copley wouldn't sell them out again, he assured himself. Not after last time, not after working with them for over ten years. But then he'd been their companion for over a century before betraying them, so how was that a guarantee?

"Is something wrong, should I try to contact them?" Copley asked.

"No, no, it's… fine. I just… it's fine."

Exile for a hundred years. Texts, postcards, emails, phone calls; Andy's not so secret visits. He wasn't supposed to have these things. If something had reminded them of that, then he'd understand.

He told himself that through two weeks of silence - with even Nile's emails and phone calls absent.

Week three he spent in the bottle, torn between despair and concern.

Week four he changed safehouses, bought a new computer, and set to work.

Copley was good at what he did, trained to be the best - probably chosen because he was the best. But in the end, he was mortal. Booker had learned computer coding before he was born. Had learned the art of forgery two centuries before he was even a thought. Had watched stamps and parchment be replaced by printed forms and holographic seals. Had been the one to teach that subtlety to a group used to doing everything by force. If Copley had sold them out again, nothing would hide that from him.

Less than forty-eight hours later, he knew Copley had no outside correspondence that suggested a betrayal. Had scanned through every email, text, and program with a fine toothed comb. Pouring himself a new cup of coffee, he tried a different tactic.

No matter how much Copley had proved his worth, the others wouldn't have trusted him with their monetary assets. He’d been the one to set up the safety measures surrounding those as banking and property records went digital with the new age of electronics. Accessing it was easy. He set about tracking their recent expenses - if they truly were just on break, then he would leave well enough alone.

At first, he didn’t notice anything off. Scattered withdrawals, the occasional liquidation of property or other assets for cash. Equipment purchases that could be from missions he was unaware of. But a pattern was emerging. One he wasn’t sure whether to wish he was wrong or right about. He switched from finances to satellite images next.

“They missed a check in.” Copley’s voice was both unwelcome and not when he decided to answer the unknown number that hadn’t stopped dialing him for ten minutes straight.

“I was hoping not to hear that.”

“Does someone have them?”

“Not that I can tell so far. All my research points to them going somewhere voluntarily.”

There was a pause. “How are you researching… did you hack me?”

“I worked with them for two centuries. I know their methods when left to their own devices.” He dodged the question.

“That isn’t an answer. You suspected me, didn’t you?”

“I’ve hacked Merrick’s competitors, and while they’re involved with plenty of shady things - there is no suggestion of anything immortal related-”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Of course I suspected you. I’d be a fool not to.”

“That is hardly fair.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t spend the last couple months trying to suss me out in case I did the same.” Booker smiled as Copley spluttered. “Hope you invested in better virus protection.”

“You little shit, I liked that computer.”

“You needed a larger hard drive anyway.”

“How do I know you didn’t sell them out when I can’t access your equipment?” He finally demanded.

“No offense, Copley, but fuck you.”

“Tell me you still don’t want to die, and maybe I’ll have less reason to suspect you.”

“Like you didn’t use that to your advantage, with every ounce of CIA training in psychology you had.”

“You were the one who told me about your son.”

“Because I thought we were commiserating. I had no notion of modern medical science until you brought it up. We had no reason to worry about it given our condition.”

“The minute you did learn, though, you jumped at it. You weren’t a hard sell, Booker. Not in the least.”

“I’m pretty sure you were the one playing the bagpipes, Copley. So don’t act like I was running the damn show.”

He hung up, instantly frustrated that he couldn’t slam it like phones were so nicely capable of in the past. When it rang with the same unknown number, he dropped it to the floor and slammed it with his heel - not stopping until it was in pieces.

* * *

“You’re a damn hard man to reach.”

Booker glowered at where Copley stood outside his favorite liquor store. If he was there, at least it meant he hadn’t figured out his new safehouse yet. Damn cameras. Always everywhere in the modern world. “That was the point.”

“They have a ship.”

“I know.”

“They boarded it voluntarily.”

“I know.”

“Do you know what the hell they’re doing?”

“I imagine I do, but it isn’t my place to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a good chance they’ll fail. And if they do, it’s not really any of your business. It’s personal for them.”

Copley had fallen into step beside him, and he’d purposefully headed away from his safehouse. He had no intention of letting him know more than he needed. “I’ve been with them a long time.”

“It’s not long for them.”

“Do you always feel so separate from us?”

Booker considered the question. “I can’t answer for the others. For myself, I don’t think I could bear getting too close to someone I could lose again.”

“So they don’t care about me?”

Booker shook his head. “I didn’t say that. At this point, I’m sure they do. I think we’ve become more isolated this last century than any before. It used to be more common for us to have friendship or at least camaraderie with people we met and worked with.”

“So what changed?”

“Travel. Technology. In my day there were trains and ships, so travel was already growing. In their day, travel was rarer. Took longer. Now, you can hop on a plane and be anywhere in the world in hours. Someone takes a picture, and it’s viewed by thousands in minutes. Someone posts a story about a group of people they met, and someone half a world away can confirm they met the same people. The risk of discovery keeps growing.”

“And your ability to interact with people in any meaningful way keeps shrinking.” Copley frowned.

“Perhaps meeting you was luck. Though I’m sure Nicky would call it fate. You’ve provided them with something they needed.”

“And you? Have I provided you with anything or made things worse?”

“I lost my way when I lost my sons. I haven’t spent the time since finding it - I’ve just spent it doing things. The two are not the same. I’m working on that. Perhaps more so now that I’m not the one doing all the tasks that are your current job.” His lips twisted into a self-deprecatory smile.

“I could never take your place. I’m just a stand in.”

“No, no you’re something all your own.”

“...I did use it to my advantage - the death of your son.”

The confession, the admission of guilt, didn’t make him feel better. “Like you said, I wasn’t a hard sell. If you hear from them, would you let me know? No details needed other than that they’re alive.”

“Of course.” Copley nodded. He hesitated a moment, even though the conversation was over now. No more information to exchange. “In another life, we might have been friends.”

Booker couldn’t stop the sad smile that came to his face. “In another life.” He agreed. When Copley walked away, he didn’t stop him.

It wasn’t Copley who contacted him next. An email from Nile was in his inbox a week later. A single sentence. ‘We found her.’

The next year was the hardest of his exile, despite no longer dreaming of Quynh drowning. Or perhaps because he no longer was - the familiar nightmares of her rage and pain now replaced with flashes of her recovery. Of quiet moments of reflection, of lapses into anger and fury; of moments of tenderness with the team that made him feel like an intruder. Made him feel more alone than over a decade of exile and two hundred years of dreaming of her drowning had. He stopped reading Joe’s texts, stopped picking up Nile's calls. In a drunken moment of anger, he even burned Nicky’s postcards. He sifted the ashes forlornly the next morning, hoping for even a piece to have survived - but none had.

He stopped writing the letters to his family next - burned them in another drunken rage. Copley managed to get an email to him telling him he was scaring Nile with his silence and to contact her - with much more colorful language involved. He deleted the email address completely, and started moving constantly in case Andy tried to find him. He spent more of those days drunk than not. He knew he was backsliding, but a part of him just didn’t care.

He should have expected what happened next, but somehow he didn’t until he was pointing his gun at Quynh, who was standing in his current hideout’s kitchen like she owned it.

“Booker. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only backslide I’m writing Booker going through. I don’t want to focus too much of the story on the darker moments of his exile. But I did purposefully set up his worst backslide to be when he cuts himself off from the growing communication between himself and the others. Because I do feel isolation will only increase his problems rather than solve them - which isn’t in anyone’s best interest. And therein lies the core of the problem.
> 
> The group may be the injured party - but that is the very reason you aren’t supposed to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Because at the end of the day someone has to be the responsible party - and at the moment nobody is acting it. Booker’s rehabilitation very much is their responsibility - sucks since they were the ones who were betrayed and do need to heal from that. But the facts are, they are a society of five - six but Quynh didn’t originally get a vote - which means there’s nobody else to give him the aid he needs. Pretty sure if he was capable of dealing with this on his own, he wouldn’t have reached the point of suicidal ideation that led to him working with Copley and Merrick. Someone has to be responsible, somebody has to take charge and say - he needs help in order to recover and do better.
> 
> And so - enter Quynh.
> 
> So, I feel part of what led up to what happened is the isolation the modern world put the team into. Before, chances were two people they met in different countries or continents, even just cities depending on the era, would never meet or communicate. So I think originally they did get to know people, have connections and friendships to help them feel less alone. That let them see, on a personal level at least, who they were helping and how. But the modern world changed that. It was no longer safe to have those connections.
> 
> I also think modern travel added to a type of burnout for them - in the past they would probably spend weeks to months just traveling together toward their next goal. Time in which they could have moments of peace and just enjoy each other's company. But in modern time they could travel all over the world in a short time - taking on more and more tasks than ever before. That would add to them feeling like they were losing more - when the truth was they were just going through tasks quicker and quicker. It's little wonder they were feeling so worn down.


	5. Quynh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't do it, y'all. I can't kill Andy. So my work around is this - she said one day their wounds stop healing. Nobody said a word about aging. So Andy is still immortal, she's just not unkillable. (She and Quynh deserve time, dammit.)

He charged through the door, but instead of the guards he was expecting he spotted Quynh - right before she shot him between the eyes. When he blinked awake a few minutes later, she was hovering above him - worried and exasperated. "What are you doing here?" She asked him.

"Probably the same as you."

"You don't do cases."

"I don't do cases from Copley. Difference."

"You're not a soldier." She'd been saying those words from their first meeting - an echo of what he'd said to Andy shortly after his exile. He'd thought at first she meant it as an insult. It had taken months of interactions to realize it was meant as an encouragement.

"I started working on missing children cases. A surprisingly small amount end with me getting shot. This led to something bigger. Didn't know the group was already on it."

"You should get out before too much goes down."

"To hell with that, this is my case too."

Quynh glared at him. "I will shoot you in the legs."

"That'll slow me down for two minutes."

"I'll chop off your leg."

"Fifteen tops."

Someone spoke through the radio in her ear before she could decide on a new threat. Quynh scowled, but pulled him to his feet. "We're on our way…. Booker was apparently working on the missing persons case for one of the kids being held here."

He scouted the hallway from the doorway as he waited for her. Whatever was being said on the line made Quynh roll her eyes. "Nile says 'Hi' and Andy cursed."

"Dead language or live language?"

"Long dead."

"She's going to kick my ass."

Quynh's grin was sharp. "Absolutely."

They took down the second guard post together, moving easily as a unit. She'd refused his offers to train with her repeatedly over the years But three months after their first meeting, she started to demand he danced with her instead. He'd become good at reading her moves. She'd been able to read his from day one.

After Quynh had dragged his ass out of the metaphorical gutter he was wallowing in when she found him, she'd proceeded to refuse to leave his side for an entire year. Not for lack of attempting to both convince her otherwise and leave her behind either. Still recovering herself, at times that year had felt a bit like the blind leading the blind. He'd be lying, though, if he said he wasn't in a better place when she returned to the team than when she'd found him. She’d visited once a year after that - sometimes staying a day, others up to a week. Once she only stayed a few hours - always seeming to know when he needed someone the most and when he just craved solitude to deal with things on his own.

Quynh handed him a new gun off one of the bodies. "I'm going to guess you didn't bring extra bullets."

"What now?"

"We wait. Andy and Nile are finishing the guards on the other side of the building. Once that's done, Joe and Nicky will be free to take out the snipers outside so we can get them out of the facility at ground level."

Booker nodded. It was probably a better plan than his - which had been to take the children back down into the sewer tunnels he'd used to access the building.

"Were you planning the sewer?"

"Best I could do single handed."

"You could have called for backup."

Booker sighed and prayed for patience. "No, Quynh, I couldn't. Exiled, remember?"

Quynh made a rude noise through her nose that reminded him so much of something Andy would do he wanted to laugh. Rather than comment further, she switched subjects. "Some of your cases must end with the children being dead."

Booker checked the gun over, not meeting her eyes. "They do."

"That does not seem healthy for you."

Quynh was as opinionated about what was healthy for him as Nile was. "The ones I find help make it worth it."

Grief was no longer his constant companion, though there were days it still shrouded him. Not every reminder was despairing now - some were more bittersweet. A part of him still ached for the life he’d lost - nothing had meant more to him than being a father. And it wasn’t a joy he could have again - knowing the pain of loss that awaited him if he tried. A flyer for a missing child outside his newest safehouse had led him into searching for other people’s lost children. If he could spare another parent that loss, it was a task worth doing.

"Joe and Nicky are on the move." She relayed to him.

"I'll leave once the children are safe." He promised.

Quynh studied him for a moment. "While respecting your sentence is good, there is no reason to hurt yourself to do so."

He frowned at her words. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Being here is coincidence. You may as well stay with us until we get to safety ourselves."

"That would definitely be breaking my exile." While the long distance contact with the others meant the world to him, he wanted to respect the price he’d been asked to pay. It was the least he could do. Guilt’s grip hadn’t lessened any in the years since the escape from Merrick’s lab.

"I saw many memories from you, you know. 200 years is a long time to dream about someone. You are more than that one act. It does not erase any good you did before, nor do you have to let it define your after."

The words struck to his core, and he struggled to think of what to say. "I-"

"No great deeds or sacrifices are required here. You were given a sentence, you are serving it. That is all the penance that is required. No one has asked you for more, nor do they have the right to."

"I think you're biased." He imagined his smile was as watery as his eyes, and he reached up to scrub away any signs of tears.

"Nile says I had Booker TV running for 200 years. I'm allowed to be."

He couldn't stop the laugh that came out. "Booker TV. Damn, must have been a depressing show."

"At times. But there were some good moments, too. You should concentrate on those." Quynh's smile was kind, but after a moment her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Between you and me, though, there was far too little porn. Try to get laid more in the next 75 years, huh?"

Booker couldn't help but splutter, just as an explosion shook the building. He was still used to Andy's signals and was only steps behind Quynh as she hurried out the door. "Fuck you, Quynh."

He knew it was the wrong insult the moment Quynh's mouth curved into a grin that was positively dangerous. "You want to share Andromache and my bed? I'm not sure you'd survive that, but you could always ask. I'm not responsible for any lost extremities if she's feeling possessive."

"That is not-!"

Quynh's laughter echoed down the hall as she raced ahead, forcing him to chase after her - cursing in every language he knew and every word that had nothing to do with sex, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first and foremost - They gave Booker a sentence. Any mistreatment of him beyond that, during or after it's finished, is utter bullshit. You treat someone like a criminal, wtf reason do they have to act as anything but a criminal? Accountability is not interchangeable with abuse. And mistreating someone who is serving their sentence, let alone done their dues? That is abuse. Period.
> 
> Low sex drive actually isn't that uncommon with depression, and is also not an uncommon side effect of alcohol abuse. So I think it's likely Booker didn't bother much with sex after his wife died. I had Quynh say "too little", so I'm not saying he never indulged - just that it was probably pretty low on his priorities. And, no, there will be no threesome, Quynh's just teasing him here because she's Quynh and she can.
> 
> I could see Booker deciding to try to find missing kids and reunite families in his first attempt in looking for a cause. It would require more research and investigation than fighting, and it would be something he'd feel strongly about. But I think Quynh is right, and that how many cases would end badly wouldn't be healthy for him in the long run.


	6. Family

"Allo, Nile. It's a bit early to-"

"Not Nile."

"Joe, what's wrong?" Booker sat up.

"Nicky's re-growing a few limbs."

Booker cursed under his breath. "He awake?"

"Occasionally." Joe took a deep breath. "Mission went to hell. The others are mostly okay. Andy has a broken arm and she is livid by the fact that means months of recovery."

"What about you?"

"Can't see out of my left eye still."

"Eye damage sucks."

"Nile says you're going to medical school, too. She wants to try drugs so we aren't in pain when healing but she won't do it without Nicky's permission and he's still too out of it to give it."

"Makes sense. We're not used to being on drugs when we're healing. He might think he's in danger if he feels drugged waking up."

He’d lasted almost a decade doing the missing children cases, but in the end, Quynh had been right. The ones that ended badly were just too hard. The last one hardest of all. Quynh had stayed with him a month while he got back on his feet. He’d taken a break before trying medicine next. Ironically, at the same time, Nile had decided the same thing - though hers had been mainly for Andy’s sake. He was focusing on children’s medicine - with plans to get out of the bigger cities he’d spent the first few decades in after he'd finished his training.

Joe took a deep breath. "Remember that mission in Portugal?"

"The one that went to hell in a handbasket?"

"1907, wasn't it?"

"09, I think. Why?"

"We got separated from Andy."

Booker leaned against the headboard, imagined Joe was probably doing the same - one hand probably resting on Nicky's chest so he could feel him breathe. "Nicky was really badly hurt on that mission, too. He came back to you, Joe, he always does."

"I know, I know. I just hate seeing him like this." Joe murmured something too low for the phone to catch. He was probably soothing Nicky. "When the hideout was attacked, you wouldn't let me leave him to help you. You remember what you said that day?"

"Don't let him suffer through this alone." Booker remembered it clearly. None of them had ever been hurt as badly before that day - at least in the time he'd been with them.

"There were moments before then, I wondered if you resented us all. But that day, the protectiveness you had toward us; how insistent you were that I stay by his side. I knew then you loved us all dearly. Not just enough to protect us from harm, but to care about how we felt. How Nicky would feel going through that pain alone."

It had surprised him, too, that day. They'd snuck into his heart when he wasn't looking. A new family to love and protect - when the old one had already destroyed so much of him. A part of him had been terrified. He had been convinced at the time he had nothing good left to give. "I think I wanted to resent you back then. You just made it damn difficult to."

"We were very loveable." Joe teased.

Booker huffed out a laugh, mind still wandering through the memories of those early days. "I just always felt so out of place. I wasn't… what you all were. Fighting came naturally to you in a way it didn't for me. I kept waiting for you to see it."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I thought you'd turn me away. I was the forgery, Joe. Pretending to be what you really were. And in the end, nobody wants a forgery."

"The world was changing when we met you. Your skills were exactly what we needed. Your pen protected us in ways a gun never could. You weren't a forgery, Booker. You just weren't the same medium. That didn't make you less of a masterpiece."

Booker blinked back tears. "You and your stupid poetic way of speech. How does Nicky put up with you?"

"Lots of patience."

"He must have."

For a moment silence settled over the line, but he heard him murmuring again. He hoped for Nicky's sake the healing was almost done.

"I have to go." Joe said when the murmurs stopped.

"Yeah, yeah, go… take care of him."

"60 years and you'll be home. Right?"

The words eased a knot of tension he didn't know he was still feeling, forty years later. "60 years and I'll be home."

* * *

Nicky was waiting for him outside the library when his shift was over. He nodded at a co-worker heading inside before approaching the bench he was seated on. "You okay?"

"Just… needed space."

"A whole continent?"

"Joe called?" Nicky glanced at him.

"Quynh. She calls you two the newlyweds." He clapped him on the back before sitting down beside him. He pretended not to understand the insult Nicky muttered under his breath in Quynh's direction. "I don't think I've seen you two fight besides… 1972, I think it was."

"That wasn't a fight, more of a misunderstanding." Nicky disagreed. "We had a fight in 1403. Nasty one."

"So, is this better or worse?"

Nicky shrugged. "He's too forgiving."

"You usually think that's one of his best qualities."

"It is." Nicky acknowledged. "But not… not everyone deserves second chances. Not everyone can change."

"Maybe. But if you don't give them the chance, how do you know?"

"You sound like Joe."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Booker studied his posture. "Let's get ice cream." Nicky looked up at him, confused. "Nile says ice cream makes everything better."

Nicky smiled tiredly at that and followed him out to the street. The ice cream shop was on the way to his newest safe house. Neither spoke until after they'd gotten their treats and were walking toward the apartment. His medical career hadn’t lasted a year - it was too close to the wounds of the past. The risk of having to face the same illness he’d lost his son to in a young patient wasn’t something he could deal with long term. He’d sought refuge in something simpler. He’d considered teaching, but it included too much technology. Too many footprints that would need to be continually erased. The library was a good compromise.

"Joe’s undercover.” Nicky explained slowly. “I think he feels for the guy partly because he's spent so much time with him. But this man, he's done some things that... I know it's hypocritical. I shouldn't throw stones from glass houses, but…"

"But you think letting him go won't change anything. What do the others say?"

"Andy and Quynh say no exceptions, Nile says Joe is the one inside and we should trust his judgment."

"So you have the deciding vote."

"You think I should trust Joe."

"Not my vote."

"But you think that."

"I'm not gonna make the choice when I don't know the details."

Nicky sighed, leaning against the nearest wall to consider the view of the city around him. "Did you used to fight with your wife?"

Booker took a bite of the ice cream as he considered the question. "Yes, though not often. Except towards the end. But we weren't… our marriage was arranged, did I ever tell you that?"

"I don't think you did."

Booker nodded. "It was common practice. Marriage in those days was about status more than love. I cared for her, though. She was a good woman. She deserved better than the life I ended up giving her."

Nicky nibbled on the ice cream, eyes distant. "What's it like, being a father?"

Booker glanced at him, but Nicky was looking determinedly in the distance. "It's incredible. And absolutely terrifying.” He answered. “You’re handed this tiny baby. They’re so tiny when they’re born. And you’re standing there holding it thinking, I’m going to break it. They're so fragile, I’m going to break them. Who decided I was ready for fatherhood?”

Nicky laughed at that, but still didn’t look at him, so Booker continued. “They’re so pure, though. Pure and innocent and everything that’s right in the world. And you just look at that tiny face, and you know you’d do anything for them. They’re your whole world now.”

“Anything? Even if it’s wrong?”

Booker wasn’t sure he wanted to know why he was asking that particular question. He kept his own gaze forward as he answered. “...whatever it takes. I said no to the first person who offered me money to forge documents. And I told the second to leave and not come back. I hadn’t been able to afford food for two days when the third offer came. And I realized that it didn’t matter how filthy my hands got, so long as my sons were taken care of. I’d sell my soul for their happiness. Sometimes, the more I came to understand who I was making documents for, the more I felt I had. I was expendable when they were done with me, and I found myself under arrest while those I’d worked for walked free. As is so often the way, even now. The desperate pay for their crimes, while the ones who pull the strings make their profit and live without fear.”

“Thank-you.” Nicky said after a moment.

“For what?” Booker was confused.

“For speaking to me about this. I feel like we’ve never had a real conversation about any of this.”

“I couldn't bear to speak of these things for so long. The grief was overwhelming. And I didn’t understand that to move past it, I had to let myself feel it. I had to let myself be upset over what I lost. I never wanted to be a criminal, or a soldier... or an immortal. I just wanted to be a father, and ply my trade - live a simple life. I didn’t let myself grieve the loss of that life any more than my sons. Not really. Sometimes moving forward is an avoidance. You can’t overcome what you don't truly face.”

“When did you get so wise, little brother?” Nicky’s smile was soft as he gazed at him.

Booker laughed, shaking his head. “What’s that saying? Good decisions come from experience and experience comes from making bad decisions?”

Nicky reached out and pulled him into a hug, and Booker let himself sink into it - holding him back tightly. “It’s been a hard mission, it always is when I can’t be by Joe’s side.”

“After this, you need to take a break.” Booker pulled back reluctantly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and we never let ourselves recover, just ran toward the next task - and part of that was on me. I was always looking for the next mission, even before the old one ended. It was an avoidance tactic. One week minimum between missions. A month if it’s been rough. Force a vote on Andy if you have to. You all need it.”

“Will you be coming back to us?” Nicky asked him.

“To all of you, yes. To the fighting? We’ll see where I am in fifty years.”

“Whatever you decide, we’ll have your back. We always would have.”

“I couldn’t have accepted it then.”

“And now?”

“I’m getting there.”

* * *

  
"How come Nicky got a rocket launcher?" Quynh pouted at him from the couch. Someone who had been alive for thousands of years should not be able to pout so effectively. Andy had claimed his recliner, but she held up her hands, clearly signaling she was staying out of this one. He’d taken back over getting them their supplies - it was something that was easy to do long distance with all the new technology. It usually meant hacking the military of whatever country they were in to set up drone drops, but that tended to be the easy part.

"Nicky needed the rocket launcher." Booker told her.

"I asked for a rocket launcher last mission."

"Yes, but you didn't need a rocket launcher, Quynh."

“Your booze stash has shrunk.” Andy cut in.

“I don’t drink as much.” He told her. “You on break?”

“Yes, and like I’ve been saying the last fifteen years - fuck you for that.” Andy groaned.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” Quynh’s voice took on a teasing lilt.

“Don’t flirt in my apartment.” Booker grouched.

“I told you to get laid more often.”

“Andy, do something about your wife.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to flirt in your apartment.” Andy buried her smile in her drink.

Shaking his head, he sat down in the open chair across from Andy. “Where is everyone off to this time?”

“NIle’s doing her seven wonders tour again. How many times does one need to see the Colosseum?” Quynh asked him.

“As many times as she likes.”

“Joe and Nicky are on one of those “historically accurate cruises” things that started up.” Andy told him.

“The ones with no electronics allowed outside the cabins? I read about those.” Booker admitted.

“They aren’t historically accurate at all. They’re based on bad movies and worse historical research-”

“Joe and Nicky think they’re hilarious and fun.” Quynh interrupted.

“And for some reason, you two decided this was the best place for your two week break?” He gestured to his apartment.

“What are you doing this decade?” Quynh ignored the question.

“Book preservation efforts. The professor I’m working with is very impressed with my skills.”

“You probably invented the techniques he’s so shocked you have.” Andy rolled her eyes.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Speaking of books.” Andy reached down to pick up her backpack.

“Do I want to know how much you spent this time?”

“Probably not.” She was smug as she handed off the book she’d pulled out.

He traced the lettering on the cover. “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The original title even. First edition?”

“Second. Not for lack of trying.” Andy set down her cup, gazing at him. “Nile wants to vote on your early return.”

“Let me guess, something about reduced sentences in the modern era of criminal reform.” He couldn’t stop a smile.

“She always packs a good argument.” Andy told him. “So, my question is… are you ready to come back?”

Booker considered her words carefully, studying the book he held. It wasn’t painful, the thought of returning. The guilt not gone, but more distant. And the idea of being around the others again brought a warmth with it that he wouldn’t deny. Getting their supplies for them was one thing, though, being fully involved in their latest missions still left a cold feeling in his stomach. “Not yet.” He admitted.

Andy nodded in respect of that decision, Quynh flashed him a proud smile. “Well, you’re stuck with us for two weeks, so there better be something worthwhile in this tiny town you’ve set yourself up in.”

“There’s a carnival starting this weekend.” He told her. “If you want to be a show-off and win all the games.”

“Better than a non-historically accurate historically accurate cruise.”

Booker joined Quynh when she started laughing.

* * *

"You're not allowed to die on me." Nile's voice was thick with tears.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on?" Booker set down the novel he’d been reading.

"Even if you do lose your immortality first, you can't die on me. You have to wait for me, you got that?"

"Nile, what's going on?" He kept his voice even.

"Because that's what you meant. That's what you meant all those years ago. Everyone you love is going to die. Including the others, because we're the fucking babies and they're going to leave us alone someday and you can't do that to me. We go together, you hear me? We absolutely go together. It's non-negotiable."

The pain in her voice was palpable. He was familiar with loss, and he knew what the tears in her voice meant. "I'm so sorry, Nile."

"You have to promise me. You'll wait for me, okay? Even if you stop healing first."

"I won't leave you alone." He promised. "Are you in Chicago?"

"The plane… the plane leaves tomorrow." She choked out.

"I'll be there." He’d never chosen to break his exile himself, despite the number of times the others had. But this was different.

* * *

Nile stayed for fifteen years. Booker suspected that the last five was less reluctance to return to the mission, and more stubbornly hoping he’d come back early if she held out.

“We go together, remember. Non-negotiable.” She’d hugged him tight before climbing aboard the small plane. She’d become an excellent pilot, and owning their own mode of transportation had become more and more important as cameras began to blanket more and more of the planet.

Booker almost asked to go with her, but held the words in.

* * *

He’d barely made it onto the rocky shore when the others were there, pulling him into a group hug he really wasn’t sure whether had been started by Joe, Nile, or Quynh.

“About time, you asshole.” Andy held on the longest.

Booker met her watery smile with one of his own. “It’s good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t feel Booker still grieving means he loves Andy, Nicky, and Joe any less. He specifically replies to “What brings you here?” with “Family” at the start of the movie - which says flat out how he feels about them. But you can love your brothers and sister and still grieve lost children. They aren’t exclusive to one another. It doesn’t ease the pain - you don’t swap families like some sort of exchange policy and feel better. He loves them, but he’s still grieving his kids. There’s room for both feelings.
> 
> I’ve read up on the comics, but I’ve never read the comics. So it’s very possible that in them he says he loved his wife and she is part of the loss he can’t fully get over. But it struck me in the movie that he doesn’t say to Nile, “I had a family,” Or, “I had a wife and three sons.” Just - “I had three sons.” So while I get why everyone writes about his dead wife like he was madly in love with her, that’s not what I took away from that conversation. An arranged marriage between families would have been very common in his time. He may have liked her just fine. But ultimately, it wasn't her loss he was struggling to move past. It was the sons.
> 
> I avoided directly talking about Copley’s death, with just explaining how Booker took over supplies. Likewise, Nile’s pieces deal with her brother dying of old age even if it’s never exclusively said. And, yes, despite the fact that it probably wouldn’t be for thousands of years, I think Booker was very aware he would someday lose Andy, Joe, and Nicky. He was the youngest, and that meant there would come a time he would lose this new family just like his old one. He would have to watch them die - be slowly left alone again, and he couldn’t stand the thought.
> 
> In the end, I think Booker would end up almost running a type of mission control for the group when he returned to them. Supplies, communication, etc.
> 
> “I finally feel like I’ve found my place, and it’s exactly where I started - but the difference is, this time I chose it.”
> 
> Yes, I just quoted Antz at you.
> 
> I have read every comment, and I am so grateful for every one. It means a lot to me that so many people enjoyed this fic. Thank-you for sticking with it to the end. I hope you find it a satisfactory one.


End file.
